


In The Eyes Of The Beholder

by crazyanimelover98



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Legolas Greenleaf & Tauriel Friendship, M/M, Snow White Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22690756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyanimelover98/pseuds/crazyanimelover98
Summary: To escape a fate worse than death, Legolas must seek help in the last place he'd think to look. A Snow White AU that nobody asked for but I DESPERATELY needed.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. Once Upon a Very Sad Time

**Author's Note:**

> A Snow White AU that only has a passing resemblance to any form of the story but all the same, would not leave me alone.

Legolas couldn’t remember much about his mother, but he vividly remembered the day she died. His father had been by her bedside all day, and long into the night. Legolas had never been permitted to enter the room. When morning came, it came without her. He remembered the unsettling quiet that fell over the palace. He remembered the whispers and eyes full of pity that were aimed down at him as a very young child. More than anything, though, he remembered being alone. 

Thranduil came to him one time, a hollowed look in his eyes, shoulders sagged with the weight of her loss. Legolas could remember feeling hopeful anyway. Surely, if his father had left the room, things were finally looking up! He had asked if his mother was feeling better, and when he might be able to see her again. 

“Your mother is dead,” Thranduil had said. Very cold and to the point with no room left for argument or disbelief. He then turned away and returned to the room that his mother’s corpse laid in. 

The elven king remained in that room for three days and nights. The doors remained locked and no food was brought in or out. On the morning of the fourth day, he finally emerged and ordered funeral processions to be held immediately. 

Legolas sobbed as the flames enveloped her shrouded body. He remembered the trees that bowed low that day and the mournful groaning of their trunks. He recalled the tears and the shaking in the voices of those who sang her spirit home. He couldn’t remember much else about his childhood after that. It was all sort of a blur of loneliness and quiet. Tauriel, captain of Thranduil’s guard, was assigned to watch him and go scouting with him when he had fully matured at the age of 100.

She had come across as a very cold person, at first. She kept herself distant from most people and was said to be a very strong yet particular leader. She had been the one to train Legolas and “particular” was a very good way to describe it. Always she found something wrong with a stance or a sword swing, or a shot with a bow, but he knew better than to complain. She was preparing him for real danger that only seem to intensify the older he became. So, he worked his best to improve: strengthening his stances, focusing his swing, and perfecting his archery. Eventually, his improvement became undeniable that even she couldn’t deny it. They started sparring together. Naturally, she kicked his ass, but it was all rather good-natured. She started to give him pointers and he followed her advice to the letter. Slowly, he started to gain her respect. With all the time they spent together, Legolas began to notice himself speaking his thoughts and concerns aloud to her. To his shock, she listened. Over time, he started to notice her doing the same. Though, Legolas was sure the changing of the times had a big part to play in the development of their companionship. 

Over the next few centuries, he watched as the lush and fertile lands of their forest of Greenwood grew dark and cold. Trees began withering and dying, grass no longer grew, harsh rocks lined every path just waiting to break someone’s foot, and the shadows grew longer, even seeming to lurk about the land. Travelers eventually became too frightened to pass through their borders, and renamed it ‘Mirkwood’. Evil creatures slowly crept in and started skulking around in the night. Orcs, goblins, and all manner or other unsavory beings became bolder, even orchestrating attacks on the elves within their own forest. By the time Legolas was 500 years old the forest full of life and light seemed like a distant dream of his youth. In such fearful and confusing times, Legolas doubted anyone could remain sane without having someone to confide in. Anyone but his father anyway.

  
  


His father only grew more distant and cold as time went on. Thranduil was more eager to hand out harsher punishments, hoard the wealth of their kingdom, and cut off contact with most of the world outside their sick woods. Few exceptions were made, and only ever for distant elven kin, like the people of Elrond in Rivendell or Galadriel in Lothlorien. The most extreme of these exceptions, and the most strange by far, was made for Annatar in Legolas’ 600th year.

Annatar’s arrival came suddenly as if he had simply popped into existence one day. His long fiery red hair flowed in beautiful waves and curls that never seemed to fade or fringe. His pale skin danced with the light of the moon and his voice was honey-sweet yet seemed to have the wisdom of the ages woven into every word. Most striking were his eyes. Amber, and in certain lights they even seemed to glow like a flame. They were alluring and often they were the first things to be talked about after meeting him for the first time. Always he seemed to be at Thranduil’s side, and the king seemed to hold his counsel close to heart. 

“I do not trust him,” Legolas called down to his friends, “Something’s off about him, I can feel it.”

The young prince was nearly indiscernible from the foliage that surrounded him from his perch; high up in a large, sturdy tree. He, Estel, and Tauriel often wandered around the edge of the safe borders of the forest. Few dared to venture out this far from the palace anymore, and they enjoyed the privacy it brought them. This was especially true whenever Estel dropped by for a visit. Being a ranger, he often passed through on his way to some mission or other somewhere beyond Mirkwood.

Elrond had first introduced Estel as his adopted human son when Estel was still just a small child. It had been very strange to hear at first: an elven lord taking in a young human child. Legolas couldn’t remember ever hearing of anything else like it. His father certainly would never have done such a thing. As a result, the boy had fascinated him at first. Estel grew at a much slower rate than any human he’d ever heard of, yet faster than any elf he’d ever known. He certainly seemed to have the wisdom and skill of a member of Legolas’ kin, but he lacked all grace and ethereal air that they seemed to have in abundance! He was also more open than anyone else in Mirkwood. Estel wore his thoughts and emotions openly, it was one of the things Legolas most appreciated about the boy. Estel was also very eager to share stories of his travels with Legolas. By the time Estel entered his adolescence he had joined Tauriel in the tiny circle of people that Legolas considered his friends. Now, as a man, Estel had gotten a little quieter with age but he still found ways of acting like a little brat sometimes. 

“Are you certain you aren’t projecting a little?” Estel asked, seated at the base of Legolas’ tree. He glanced up from his newly cleaned hunting knife. “It’s no secret that you have found some of his guidance...shall we say...questionable.”

Tauriel gave a snort from the other side of the tree trunk, “That is a rather charitable understatement if ever I’ve heard one.”

Truly, Annatar’s prowess showed the best in his ability to strategize and coordinate. "Order" was a virtue he seemed to hold in high esteem, and it showed in how he advised the king. With his help, the elves of Mirkwood began effectively beating back the darkness that seemed to be ever consuming their home. Safe trails were made so their people could avoid the worst patches of the woods. Efforts were made to start reviving and healing the woods. Already the areas closest to the palace, and even some parts a little further beyond, were growing green again. Animal life was slowly returning. Orcish raids became less frequent before suddenly stopping altogether. At the same time, though, their relations with other kingdoms seemed to plummet. Humans were seen as trading partners and little else. They weren’t even welcome in their woods. Most dealings were done via the river that flowed through the forest. Elves from other lands visited less than they ever had before. The only person that still dared to pass through with relative ease was Estel. Worst of all was their current relations with the dwarves of Erebor.

Legolas never really learned what happened between his people and the dwarves. It had always been a bit of a shaky alliance, to begin with. Their cultures and customs just seemed to grate against one another, but at the very least everyone had been able to maintain a sense of civility. Their hostilities had been expressed by empty surface level insults that would be made while trading a few coins for a piece of fine, intricate jewelry or handcrafted bow. The kingdom of Erebor had one of the Greenwoods’ closest neighbors and both kingdoms had proven to be fierce allies to one another when it really mattered most, despite all the little meaningless posturing. But, one day, Legolas had witnessed a beaten and battered elf report to his father, Annatar, and Tauriel from a battle they had sent some soldiers over to aid their dwarven neighbors in. Like most things anymore, Legolas wasn’t told much about it, and honestly wasn’t even supposed to be there to witness the report at all. However, he’d managed to convince Tauriel to help him sneak up to a high skylight to overhear the proceedings. He wasn’t able to hear much from there, but he risked a peek, and saw a flash of rage in his father’s eyes and Annatar speak something to him. The next thing he knew any dwarf seen within shooting distance of their forest was to be shot and killed on sight by order of the king. When he asked about the rather drastic measures his father only stared coldly down at him and spoke plainly, “They have committed an egregious slight on our people that will not be forgiven.” He’d tried asking Tauriel about what had been said but all she could say on the matter was that she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d heard herself.

Their kingdom was more isolated now than it had ever been before but things were looking so much better within their woods, most of his people didn’t really seem to care. 

And why should they? The rest of the world could deal with their own problems. 

At least, that was how Thranduil and Annatar seemed to see it. While it was clear that their relationship was strictly a professional one, and much of their success in the slow reclamation of their home was due in large part to Annatar’s leadership, shutting themselves away just didn’t seem right to Legolas. His father called it naivety, and Annatar called it the hopefulness of his youth but Legolas wasn’t sure it was either of those. 

Legolas shook his head and shifted on the tree bough, “It’s more than that! No smile ever seems to reach his eyes. Not a single one. The closest thing to genuine mirth I have witnessed from him is when he’s talking down to someone.”

“Particularly you?” Estel asked. 

Legolas felt his cheeks heat up but ignored it and carried on, “I...I have also felt his eyes on me a lot lately.”

This statement got Estel and Tauriel’s full attention. They two shared a look before climbing up the tree together and seating themselves at either side of Legolas. He hardly acknowledged their approach. Instead, Legolas looked out over the forest with unfocused eyes and his arms wrapped around himself as if he were trying to fend off a chilly gust of wind. 

“I can feel his gaze on me, even here,” he murmured with a shudder. “Always, his eyes sear into my skin, yet when I turn to face him he is either focused elsewhere or nowhere to be seen at all. But I _know,_ and I can feel it driving me mad. I cannot explain how or even why, but I just…”

Estel laid a comforting, yet firm grip on Legolas’ shoulder, grounding him to the present. 

“Have you spoken to your father about this?” He asked.

Legolas let out a mirthless chuckle as his shoulders slumped, “What would I even say? For better or worse, Annatar has proven to be an invaluable asset. Much progress has been made in a relatively short amount of time because of him, and Father wouldn’t risk losing it all because of a feeling I have. He’s more likely to say I am thinking and behaving irrationally and scold me. Perhaps he would even be right to do so.”

“Well, I must disrespectfully disagree,” Tauriel said. “Your instincts are telling you something isn’t right. They wouldn’t be flaring up like this for no reason. They to protect you, and so am I.”

Estel nodded, “I trust your instincts because I trust you. Before I make my way back through here I can ask around... see what I can find out about him.”

Legolas glanced at the two of them before smiling softly and gripping one of both their hands. “Thank you. Both of you.”

The three of them stayed like that for a long while, taking comfort in one another’s presence. As the sun started to disappear behind the tree, Legolas finally decided it would be a good idea to start heading back to the palace. Upon their return, Legolas looked up on a whim to see Annatar standing on his bedroom balcony, staring right at him. The fiery reds and oranges of the sunset, even from so far down as Legolas was, made Annatar’s eyes seem to glow.


	2. The Shadows Started Shifting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Me again. Plot bunnies still aren't moving on so here's another chapter!

The fiery light of the setting sun glinted off the silver hairbrush. With every stroke through his hair, it would shine brightly in Annatar’s eyes, before disappearing once more. Annatar didn’t flinch from the light, nor did he blink. He would just continue to delicately brush through the red wavy strands and wait. 

When the sun had set, at last, pale hands rested on the shoulder of his reflection. He could feel the slightest of touches on them both, though he knew that if he were to turn around he’d see nothing. Still, he continued to comb through his hair, totally unfazed. 

Silver eyes glinted in the dark and smooth lips pulled back to smile, before pressing against Annatar’s cheek.

Annatar’s right eye twitched. Without shifting his focus from the brush, he curtly said, “You’re staring.”

The reflection reached up as if to caress Annatar’s face and hummed, “I am.”

Annatar said nothing more, as he set down the brush. Only once it was down, did he finally turn his attention to the scarred face of his master.

Melkor let their gazes meet silently for a moment before breaking the silence again. 

“What news do you have for me tonight, my falling star?”

Annatar felt his eye twitch again, and he scrunched his nose, “I could say I have nothing to report at all.”

“But then you would be lying. You are very good, Mairon, but you could never lie to me.”

Annatar flinched. However minutely, he knew that he had and that Melkor had seen it. Still, he kept his head high and his gaze firm as he replied, “I am not Mairon anymore.”

Melkor laughed.

It wasn’t a very joyful sound, all things considered. It sort of resembled the sound a very jagged rock would make being scraped against a marble slab. Deep and gravelly. It nearly made Annatar crack a smile.

Melkor nuzzled the cheek of Annatar’s reflection with his own. 

“No. No, I suppose you aren’t Mairon anymore, are you? No longer doe-eyed and eager to please as he was.” 

Annatar felt strands of his hair lift and fall, as Melkor combed his fingers through a section of hair on his reflection.

“No longer constrained or stagnant.”

“Yet here you are, still a whimsical old sap.”

Melkor’s smile fell, thrown off by the comment. He pulled back to sniff indignantly down at his minion. 

“You can be replaced, you know.”

Annatar finally allowed himself to smile and even let out a chiming laugh as he pointed at the mirror, “From in there? Highly doubtful. I would probably be better off just leaving you in there and tossing this old thing off my balcony.”

Melkor smirked and leaned down so his face was level with Annatar’s.

“But you won’t.”

Annatar reached a hand up, and had the tip of his reflection’s fingers graze Melkor’s cheek. 

“But I won’t,” his voice barely above a whisper. 

A secret moment passed between them. It was brief, but it was intimate and it was theirs. Staring into each others’ eyes there was so much that each conveyed within that single glance. It only came to an end when Annatar spoke.

“The orcs have pulled back to Dol Guldur on my command. The spiders take more and more of the woods every passing day. The wargs are grown and hungry. The forces of Angmar await the order from Gundabad.”

A mischievous glint shone in Annatar’s amber eyes.

“And I think...I think I may have finally found you a suitable vessel.”

That changed the tone of the silence between them very quickly. 

Melkor stood tall behind Annatar’s reflection and arched a brow. 

“Oh?”

Annatar nodded slowly, reclining back into his chair a bit more.

“A prince. A young prince in his prime.” 

Annatar tilted his head as he tried picturing it.

“A little bright for you...and a little shorter than you are, I suppose. But, I wouldn’t ultimately mind it.”

“Would anyone miss him?” Melkor inquired. 

“Would it matter?” Annatar quipped “When the body is yours, it won’t make a difference anymore. Our armies are ready and waiting. We won’t be stuck here. We can burn these awful woods. Move over the land like a cleansing wave! No more noise of pathetic squabbling over land or money. Just the clanking of perfect machinery! Only Progress! Only us.”

Melkor’s amused smile returned as he admired the excitement in his lover’s eyes. 

“You would see us rule this world?”

“I would see us perfect it!” Annatar stood from his chair, unable to stay still any longer. “I would see us finish what we started. I would see you freed from this hellish prison and restored to me. I would have you here and the two of us living out all the ages of this world in a paradise of our making. A world for us and us alone.”

Annatar met his love’s gaze in the mirror, determination set in his very jaw and a wave of ages-old anger blazing in his eyes. 

“I am ready to be rid of this guise. Ready to topple these towers and scorch every sign of Their creations from this world. I want Them to witness it all and know that there is no stopping it. To know that it was Them who doomed themselves. I am ready to burn it all down and sit with you on the throne of ashes, as we sing a new and better world into being.”

Melkor reached forward and turned the reflection Annatar’s head toward him. Annatar saw nothing but empty air, of course, but he felt his master’s lips against his own and even his breath on his tongue. He also felt it when he pulled away and stroked his cheek instead. Felt those lips move right against his ear, and heard the smile on them when his master spoke again. 

“Then I know you won’t fail me.”


End file.
